Welcome back to week 32 of Sunday Poser. Today is Father’s Day. Fathers can be our heroes or they could teach us how not to be. My question today is;…Sunday Poser # 33 – Father’s Day
I never saw much of my father when I was young – it was not so much that he was irresponsible. In fact, he was too responsible.
My childhood memory of him was he leaving early in the morning at six for his full time job as a drinks product distributor, coming home in the evening for dinner and leaving again for his part time job as a taxi driver. Even on Saturdays and Sundays, he spent majority of the day driving taxi. He never took any shortcuts or flatter anyone to get ahead. And this continued until I was twelve, when he suddenly collapsed and was warded into ICU – he needed an urgent bypass surgery.
There and then, on the hospital bed before his surgery, he weakly called me over and told me to be strong and would have to take care of the family in case he did not make it.
He made it and continued working into his seventies as a taxi driver until the pandemic struck and under my sisters’ and my duress, retired honourably as one of the final unofficial human GPS taxi driver, title confined to Singapore and quite possibly certain streets in Johor Bahru, Malaysia. And now, he works in his spare time as an advocate for random YouTube and TikTok videos containing hilarious puns.
My father suffers from blood thinning due to blocked arteries, gout due to a combination of diet and health issues, heart problems due to various effects of medication and more importantly, incessant nagging from my entire family due to his unkempt lifestyle.
He also puts up with teasing from my sisters and me, household chores from my mother and me, mischievous antics from my nieces and me as well as random societal commentaries from our neighbours and, of course, me. Although I am proud to say recently, he has mastered the art of eye rolling from me as well.
Playful banter aside though, he does not give advice often enough, although he does suggest what I should do. But more importantly, instead of telling me to be hardworking and stop complaining, he showed me. Never did he once complain of having it tough working a lot to support the family, nor did he ever bring complaints and anger from work back home.
The only thing he ever said was, “Thinking back, I didn’t know how I even make it, earning money to pay for the house mortgage and your education. But thankfully you mother is there and all of you did not do any weird shit when you were growing up.”
All right, he did not really say that – I added the word “shit” there myself. My writing, my indulgence.
So my father never saves me from any accidents, incidents or situation. He did something more important – how to live a life honourably. And that, to me, is a hero better than any gun wielding James Bond or intelligent Sherlock Holmes out saving the world.